Monday, August 13

From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the LORD is to be praised. Ps 113:3

What the what? It was around 55ºF this morning and I was too chilled to go to the roof terrace for one of the few remaining sunrises I have left. By the time my noon dr. appt rolled around, it was again pleasantly warm–around 73º. What a strange phenomena to exist in a temperate climate. Houston was the beast. Asheville was good, but is warming, and Greenville is becoming more like Houston every year.

I digress.

Got my numbers again today and my white blood count is 400. Dr. Ruiz said that I will have around 48 more hours of exhaustion, then the levels will begin to rise. Some other patients who went before me are well out of neutropenia and are able to very cautiously navigate life with no mask! Its a beautiful thing.

The hair thing is beyond whacked. First, it began to fall out. A little. Next came the cathartic day of shaving in which all my best feature hit the floor with an audible thud. I am sure you wonder how hair hitting the floor could make a sound.

It’s a family thing. My mother, my brother and I all have hair as thick as ultra-deluxe-high-pile-super-plush carpet. JohnHarlan’s was truly something to behold before his hairline receded. All that to say that I routinely have large portions thinned in order to maintain any semblance of sanity and it’s still more hair than anyone could imagine.

So…for some reason I thought the shaving it meant it was gone. Oh no, no, no. It simply meant that all that deluxe, super plush stubble would flee my head en masse and embed itself into pillowcases, necklines, collars, bras, and anywhere else it could cause the maximum discomfort. I made the mistake of touching a bar of soap to my scalp in the shower and it looked like a Tribble. When I dried myself I felt like I’d had my hair cut with no chance to clean up afterwards.

It itches, so I sent WunderMensch down for corn starch and that seemed to calm it down a bit. Trying to figure out corn starch in español was a real trip in itself. I told David it would be a breeze to find: just look for a yellow box with an ear of corn wrapped around a Indian squaw. All pretense of PC flew out the window I did not recall that all reference to “Indian” or “squaw” were banished decades ago.